“You’re wasting time, Nicole,” he said, his voice filling the small room. “We need to get these signatures to Clara before the deadline.”
I laid my notes and the yellow tape on the table between us.
“I measured the distance from the pump house to the oak tree today, Arthur,” I said, twisting my silver wedding ring. “The grid you want to use cuts the water system right in half.”
Arthur let out a short, dry laugh, his fingers tapping against the edge of the sink.
“You are looking for patterns that simply do not exist, sister,” he said.
He took another step toward the door, his eyes darting to his watch again.
“The land is just dirt,” he said, his voice dropping as he looked at me. “We divide it, we sell it, and we make sure Mom is taken care of.”
“But Dad’s drawings show something else,” I said.
He didn’t answer, his boots heavy on the linoleum as he walked out into the evening chill.
